


Insomnia

by greymadder (whatisausername)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cyborg Anatomy, Dry Humping, Fingering, Hooking up, M/M, Mental turmoil, Oral Sex, Retribution Event, Vivid Dirty Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 16:43:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatisausername/pseuds/greymadder
Summary: “Do you want me to suck you off?” Genji purred, in such perfect colloquial English that McCree knew he’d said it before.Set directly after the events of Retribution.





	Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> havent written smut in forever so lets get right into this shit

“Do you want me to suck you off?” Genji purred, in such perfect colloquial English that McCree _knew_ he’d said it before. It sounded practiced, the way it did when it was said by an intelligent person who knew how to get people to cave into what they wanted. It wasn’t that Genji was manipulative—though maybe it was that he _was_ —but it seemed far more like trying to tranquilize his rage left the man quietly, silently seething, like a flame with no one to watch it flicker. A mood would hang around him like static, his brain white noise, made empty and wide from the times when he used to smoke and party and fuck hard enough to be worse than disowned. It had been so loud, so full of life, even if when everything was fun, nothing was. When the frenetic energy came in the form of resonating memories, he self-discharged like a battery. This was just one way that he did it.

McCree worried that maybe, like a battery, his shelf-life would deteriorate too. People weren’t batteries, but Genji wasn’t entirely _person_. Deserving of the same respect, but living a life full of hardships and otherness that people like McCree couldn’t fully comprehend unless a similar disaster struck them, too.

It wasn’t like he only pitied Genji, either. For reasons unknown, he was a little raw for the other man. He knew what it was like to come with baggage that you’d rather leave behind than bring into your future to let everyone recklessly define you by it. Maybe that was it. Other than that, he _liked_ thinking about Genji and the questionable things he did, toying with other men the way McCree was letting himself be toyed with. Genji’s glinting eyes flashed up at him in a way almost vulpine. He had told him something once, while they were chatting over drinks late into the night.

Genji had told McCree that ‘ _Do you want me to suck you off?’_ was one of the first phrases he’d worked to perfect. He’d chuckled and said it over the rim of his drink, in his lilting accent that made him sound both demure _and_ blunt, somehow, and with his cheeks flushed and eyes not quite meeting the other man’s. The sentence was obscene and painted a vivid picture, and men liked hearing it said plainly over the thrumming beat of a club’s sound system or whispered into their ear on a backroom’s leather couch while the bass still shook them, just muffled behind walls instead. It had shocked McCree to hear Genji talk like that, or _flirt_ with him like that, trying to entice him with cleverly placed and open salacity.

Maybe it _hadn’t_ been Genji’s motive, getting McCree hard under the table while casually force-feeding the man a scenario of the other beneath someone successfully seduced, on his knees, wide-eyed and pleased to have something to wrap his lips around. They’d been talking about flings and fucks and other mundane, human things people talked about that didn’t necessitate the over-examination of a wandering, paranoid mind. Still, McCree remembered slouching forward, forgetting almost entirely to contribute to the conversation as his erection filled out between his thighs.

He’d simply tucked his arms behind his head, puffing out his chest and trying not to leer at Genji even half as much as he wanted to as alcohol sapped his determination and willingness.

Even intoxicated, McCree had a habit of watching people’s eyes. Call him a marksman, or an attack dog, or just a ruminating insomniac, but people had a habit of giving themselves away. He didn’t care to think what he’d do with the information, which was why he might’ve been characterized as all the former things. He simply wanted to have it, to know the nature of the people standing closest to him.

(It was the same knowledge that led him to chase so many extremes, when he’d grown disgusted of how pervasive the attitudes—whatever attitudes he’d decided were the worst kinds at the time—had become in the people around him. It wasn’t his fault for being born with a sense of justice, purpose, and gut that could’ve walked him safely through the valley of death and back.)   

More important, however, was Genji’s habit of not looking him in the eyes. His wild, jet black hair was plagued by his fingers, but his expression was cool and his limbs were lax. Genji stayed heavy-lidded, eyes downcast or just looking off to the side until McCree did the same. In his periphery McCree saw Genji’s lips part when he sucked in a breath, eyes sliding all over the other man’s profile, to the glowing tip of his cigarette where they seemed to zone out, smoldering. Genji looked consumed by something—which he always did, by tranquility, hatred, determination, or the less-common sorrow and nostalgia—but this time it was foreign, something like nerves or lust that McCree couldn’t quite pin down to the cork because he didn’t understand it in Genji yet. He knew what it meant though—he had Genji feeling some sort of way, and the feeling was _definitely_ mutual.   

Around 4AM, the ceiling of McCree’s quarters were spinning after he’d just gotten off into his fist, tangled in his bedsheets and thinking about all the different ways he’d fuck Genji Shimada when he finally got the chance—it had become _when_ , not _if_. He’d seen the way Genji looked at him.

It was the same way Genji was looking at him now, already having fallen to his knees, mask still up but with eyes that said everything McCree wanted to know. They were lit with hunger, and McCree looked at the target he’d punched about a hundred bullet holes through today. His gun was still hot, still smoking, and a second before he swore he’d been alone, firing angrily, idly, and waiting until his fingers didn’t want to anymore. Leave it to the cyborg ninja to fail to announce himself.

McCree didn’t say anything but he may as well have, the energy in the place shifting with his expression. His brow un-furrowed, lips ajar in contemplation. Genji’s thighs spread further as he bowed his head down just until his cheek pressed against the tops of McCree’s thighs. Genji’s irises burned bloody scarlet up at him through the night and the shoddy lighting of the shooting range. McCree just looked down at him, watching the way the other man’s lashes shuddered when McCree skated his palm across the smooth metal of his jaw.

“Remember this.” Genji said cryptically as he placed his hand over McCree’s and dragged it back. It made sense instantly, when his lithe fingers pressed one of McCree’s black leather-clad ones into a divot that gave beneath an applied pressure. The mask slid back, and like the missing link to Genji’s expression he saw the soft, full lips that were quirked and amused to match his wide eyes, looking up at McCree for validation. He wanted to make McCree feel good, and then he wanted to make him cum. That’s what McCree had seen in Genji’s eyes. It was exhilarating.       

 _For the next time you need access to my mouth_ , was the unspoken part of Genji’s statement that had McCree’s blood running south even faster than the hundred things he had metaphors for. His stomach was already so tight with want for Genji’s mouth on him that McCree probably could’ve stroked himself and gotten off just from watching the other suck back his lower lip, judging him for how pathetically aroused he was. He would’ve done it, too, and then he could’ve grabbed a fistful of silky black in one hand and his cock in the other, then used them both as leverage to feed Genji’s lips until McCree was dry.   

“Oh, I ain’t plannin’ on forgettin’ this, baby. Hope you aren’t.” McCree drawled, having to light a cigarette just to keep his hands from doing anything too hasty while Genji worked at the impressively tenting front of his pants. He _also_ didn’t forget the way Genji’s fingers moved between his own metal and psuedoflesh thighs and ghosted against the bareness there, right where his cock might’ve been on his former body, and then further back. There seemed to be some sort of sensation, something electrifying because he recoiled, lips parting and his eyes unfocused. It was subtle, but of course McCree was watching like a hawk despite his lazed, husky slurring, and lounging back against a concrete wall just to have his dick blown.

“I. . .like when you call me that.” Genji said, still demurely, still bluntly, in a way that made McCree’s head spin and something inside him wind up like a heated bull. As if on cue his cock was pulled free, and instantly Genji’s face was in his groin, nose pressing into the base as he kissed and mouthed there messily. After a moment he drew back, tongue sliding from base to tip until he was just holding the weight of it in his hand, and the string of saliva connecting to his lower lip had snapped and disappeared. Rubbing at his chin, Genji seemed almost distraught as he looked at McCree’s dick for a moment.

「 えー？！すごいねーーー。」

Genji’s apparently astonished, to-himself comment was unintelligible to McCree, who could only moan when his cock was suddenly being half-buried inside of Genji’s mouth, the other looking just as determined as he was excited. After a few bobs of his head and looking up at McCree between each of them, he pulled off, letting the end of it press against his pursed lips as he stroked him with a hard grip that had his foreskin pulling back from the dripping head of his cock.

“—I didn’t think Americans were so big.”  Genji finished breathlessly in English when he pulled back and gave a satisfied, hazy smile. With those words muttered into his allegedly _big American dick_ , Genji could’ve squeezed the orgasm right out of McCree, and he felt a bit like he had whiplash from how _dirty_ it all was. He saw how the Shimada had been a playboy, too in love with his games to quit until it was way, way too late to turn anything back. Things were different now, it seemed, almost everything about him—but, just not everything, after all.

Fisting around McCree’s cock, Genji’s other hand again snaked down to stroke at whatever sensory apparatus was making him tremble in a triggered, synthetic enjoyment that was almost harder to ignore than he remembered a real orgasm being. There were _things_ he could do that more closely resembled “sex”, but the pure friction of his fingertips on the pliant material there was good enough. It was quick and dirty, and it was _McCree_ that Genji was dying to please. That alone would be enough to get the harsh shock of a generated orgasm to roll through his systems. It had happened before, in his room, spread out and imagining peeling off the jeans that McCree was always virtually _busting_ out of, and riding the man into the floor.

Call him a slut, or a pervert, or just wrong, but he didn't mind doing it somewhere where they could be found. A sick, undeniable part of him wanted them to see him sitting on or sucking McCree’s cock. It would be suffocatingly arousing _,_ and scream that he was a person despite all the barriers in place that kept him from being properly understood.

Mostly, however, it was that he knew people saw McCree for what he was—a handsome, dangerous man with a personality of gold. He was so perfect that Genji was dying to know what was wrong with him. Even his reticence and the burdens he carried and the way he furrowed his brow; it was all frighteningly attractive to Genji. He respected and admired everything about the man, even if he didn’t know him very well. Genji was being selfish again, and he knew it.

“Ah, McCree—” Genji couldn’t help but moan, chin jerking from the other’s grip as his fingers pushed against himself just right. The thought of everything the scenario entailed had only succeeded in turning him on so much more. McCree had bit the inside of his cheek and smirked down at Genji, ruffling his hair before grabbing it and pulling the other’s lips up against the head of his cock.

Genji had it bad, the way he hadn’t since before he’d been cybernetically reformed. He hadn’t even known he could feel it, though of course he’d tried anything and everything to force himself to feel whatever he could that was _pleasurable,_ solely from the fear that he wouldn’t ever again, because he was no longer capable of such things. He’d always perpetuated his vices so readily. . .it would have been cruel or at least _unnatural_ to take them from him entirely, and then expect him to be content with his continued survival.  

A few encounters had eased that fear somewhat, but when he met McCree, every suspicion that he couldn’t be something close to _normal_ was completely deleted from existence. _All_ the same sorts of human chemicals had flooded his brain when he’d seen _Jesse McCree’s_ tall, imposing, shapely figure, strapped in denim and black leather and cloaked in a dark cloth shroud that seemed sentimentally out of place. When he’d heard the man’s slow-talking Southwestern drawl, it made Genji think of _Clint Eastwood,_ or something else that someone born in the end of the Shōwa period like Shimada Sojiro might have better recognized. It was inviting and enticing, and it made Genji’s heart race from how attracted he was to McCree. It wasn’t surprising at all, how badly Genji wanted to suck him off.  

He glanced up at McCree with flushed cheeks, Genji hoping to see him similarly, organically, affected.

For all intent and purpose he seemed to be, clutching his cigarette in one hand and not even realizing that it had burnt down to an impressive grey stub that even a wayward breath would’ve sent crumbling off into the air. He didn’t care, his face too focused on how _cute_ Genji looked, pressing against his thigh and letting his fingers wrap around the base of his cock loosely. Genji’s eyes then flicked back down, instead focusing dead ahead as he lifted from where he’d been sitting back against his heels, now having to stretch just so he could fit as much of McCree’s cock down his throat as he could manage.

“Fuck, darlin’… you ain’t even gonna give me a chance to cum—” McCree stopped to let his shoulders heave as he grit his teeth and buried one of his hands further into Genji’s hair and continued, “—all over that damn pretty face of yours, are ya?” He punctuated his words with a shove and moved his other hand to Genji’s jaw, feeling his cock in the other’s throat with his fingertips, as his palm felt it sliding in through the flesh of Genji’s cheek.  

Naturally, the action lifted Genji’s chin and he readily obeyed, lifting to his knees and spreading his arms over McCree’s thighs as he sucked his cock vigorously. After a moment one of Genji’s hands found the position to start kneading the man’s balls, ignoring spit that dribbled from them and onto the cement below.

McCree’s grip in his hair tightened, and he pinched Genji’s chin between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger, trying to somehow get _more_ of the warm wet that was pulling ruthlessly over his hard cock as it pulsed with white-hot jolts of pleasure.

With a sudden grunt like it had been an awfully difficult thing to do, McCree pulled Genji off of him, gripping around the base of his spit-soaked length to keep from cumming right then.  He took only a second the gather himself, jerking his gloved hand over himself languidly a few times.

“Seems like there’s an awful lot goin’ on down there.” McCree so naturally went from having his hips thrust out and his back sliding down against the wall, to sitting back against it with his arms slung over his knees. His legs were spread like his dick _wasn’t_ hanging out of his unzipped pants, but his concentration was rapt and fixed on other places.

“You don’t want me to finish?” Genji’s response was confusion, but McCree chuckled and Genji found himself smiling too, regardless.

“That’s exactly what I wanna help you with, darlin’, if you’d let me.” _Darling_ was different this time when he said it, with all the politeness of a polished McCree standing and holding his hat over his chest. It made Genji forget to think but nod slowly when McCree was taking his wrists to change their positions until _Genji_ was the one being loomed over. “Hope you don’t mind me taking a break. You let me do this to you after I’ve had my first go, and you’ll have me riled up enough to have us here all night.” The words made Genji shudder, and the breath ghosting over his face made his knees pull together. They weren’t over-confidence, but a warning that left Genji feeling like he could’ve been overwhelmed, and little like he wanted to be.

“It’s. . .sensitive down there. Like it’s through clothing, somewhat. I can get wet, too.” Genji offered a bit awkwardly. He was surprised by how satisfied McCree seemed by it, who wasted no time in biting off one of his gloves and tossing it to the side. Fingers warm, thick, and mannish where they’d always been robotic, started to rub circles into his groin. It made Genji feel odd, but it didn’t bother him. Anything was better than nothing at all, and it wasn’t bad, either, feeling like a miracle of science when McCree’s two center fingers went deeper between his thighs and dug into the soft, fleshlike material.

Just to make sure Genji could feel something, McCree delivered a sharp, experimental bite to the tendons of his neck that gave under the straight cut of his teeth just like skin would have.

“McCree!” Genji’s reaction was automatic and exactly what McCree had been looking for. Taking advantage of the sudden cry of his name and the openness of Genji’s lips, he grabbed the other man’s chin and licked up into his mouth, teeth bared as he did so until their lips met haphazardly.

McCree’s initial ferocity should’ve been a signal to Genji of what was coming next, but he found himself too caught up in deluging bliss to have expected the sharp bite to his lip. Wanting more just as much as Genji did, McCree swallowed the resulting sound and did it again. He tugged back and bit down, letting go and leaving Genji with a bottom lip that radiated pain.  

The next thing Genji said was muffled, as McCree continued to do everything right that he could’ve done with his fingers, petting and stroking and massaging until his fingers were slick with whatever was dripping from beneath the supple strip of material he’d been abusing. Genji’s legs clamped around McCree and they moved together like that, slowly down to the ground as Genji’s hips rolled and jumped liked he was being ecstatically shocked.

“Oh, don’t—” Genji started, when the unthinkable happened and McCree dragged him forward when they were halfway there, McCree on his knees with Genji bucking into his lap, and over his fingers. His fingers—somehow, he’d figured out how to get them deeper, to slide the strip of black to the side and prod against his entrance. Nothing had given it away save for McCree’s damanably good instincts, because it wasn’t natural anatomy that the man was exploring. It was a scientific concession to human needs that had been taken into account by his doctors after one of Genji’s more uncomfortable episodes that took place during his re-building. He couldn’t help it. He hadn’t learned how to let go of the things he wanted yet, and he was glad now that he hadn’t.

If he were to be honest, he was more than _glad_.

Moaning out his enjoyment into the other man’s neck, Genji let McCree finger him shallowly, stretching him and getting used to the feeling of his artificial body, and all the places he could _squeeze_ regardless. Humping shamelessly against McCree’s hand and wrapping his arms around the broadness of his shoulders was all Genji could manage. He thought he was going to pass out.

Caught up in the action, Genji didn’t know how it’d happened but found himself on the ground with McCree pulling away. He looked across his body to see McCree’s head was between his legs, arms braced around his thighs to hold them apart. He was dragging his index and middle finger across his tongue to lick the wetness away, and Genji’s breath caught noticeably in his chest.

McCree licked his other finger clean, and it tasted like nothing, and organically non-offputting. It was McCree’s turn to reach between his knees and give his cock a few tugs, and he felt Genji shudder. It was amusing somehow, and turned him on more.

When McCree chuckled against his stomach in a low, rumbling bout of laughter that tapered off as quickly as it came, Genji felt himself growing so much more heated under his skin that it was stifling. McCree was so _hot_ , he could hardly stand it. It made him feel excited, dazed, and consumed.

 _Everything_ down there was sensitive, to the smooth, metallic parts of him under McCree’s fingertips to the slight artificial swell that was now leaking down his thighs. The other man’s breath was ghosting against it, and he felt the barest scratch of his facial hair before McCree’s mouth was on him.

The material was pulled aside and McCree went down all at once, dragging his tongue over the tight, puckered hole. Genji lurched and cried out something McCree didn’t understand, his fingers instantly combing through his long, brown hair to find a grip. It pulled against his scalp and he clamped his arms down harder around Genji’s thighs to hold him still.

“Should’ve told me that you had something nice I could eat,” McCree punctuated his words by burying his face in the curve of Genji’s ass and pushing his tongue inside of him, adding in a finger after a moment to properly fuck him with.

Genji took to muttering apologies between his continuous groans that seemed to be steadily increasing in pitch and decibel. He was forcing McCree’s head down between his thighs that pulled tight around his wrists and the man’s bobbing head, and if he had knuckles made of skin and blood and bone, they would’ve been pale as a demon. It felt so good, too good…

In one movement McCree was picking Genji up, holding him by the waist as he stood for just long enough to push Genji forward against the metal gate that separated them from the shooting targets. The sound of McCree’s revolver skidding a few inches across the ground when kicked by the man’s shuffling boot brought both of them back to reality; still, they didn’t care to think about it, much less slow down.

Genji was face forward, leaning against the aiming shelf with his forearm and letting his other hand tangle in the chainlink as McCree came from behind, on his knees and leaning forward to mouth against Genji hotly until he was moaning again. He spread Genji as much as he could, eating him until Genji’s eyes were watering and his shoulders, heaving.

“I’m close.” He said quietly, forehead rolling forward against the shelf he was slumped over, every real and fake muscle in his body contracted with the gripping pressure of his impending orgasm. It was impossible to think, but so many things came to mind when he watched McCree stand to his feet, smiling like he’d accomplished something. The only response was physically feeling his heart beat faster in his chest, as he melted a bit when McCree sucked back one side of a lip and gave a lingering swipe of the pad of his thumb that stretched Genji’s entrance. He looked at it appreciatively and then back up to Genji with the most satisfied grin the latter had ever seen. It made Genji’s cheeks darken. He had to look away.

McCree seemed content with that, coming up behind Genji and putting his still-dripping cockhead right up against the pucker of Genji’s entrance, teasing him just a bit. Genji’s arousal spiked without warning from just how badly he wanted McCree to fuck him with it, because he was so _big,_ and Genji didn’t have to worry about if he could handle it the way he’d had to before. When his body could _break_.

It could probably still break, if McCree tried. If McCree wanted to try. That thought made Genji feel a bit pathetic, but it also turned him on so much his next few inhales wavered past his used, red lips.

To his disappointment and eventual relief, McCree didn’t fuck him. Instead he grunted as he effectively-dry humped Genji against the aiming shelf until the whole thing was rattling, chain link fence and all. His cock moved between Genji’s ass, gathering the wetness there and feeling it mix with his own precum until it was a slippery mess.

Genji orgasmed like that, entrance quivering and fluid dripping down past his knees that drew together as he convulsed. His chest felt so tight with pleasure and he pulsed with shocking waves of it. He didn't remember being in the throes of something so affecting before, and it made his mind go forcibly blank with white-hot, brain-numbing heat.

Eventually, with a deep red riding high on his cheekbones and a fierce look of focus and exhaustion twisting his features, McCree was cumming over Genji’s back and thighs, and then carelessly over the cement below that was already spattered with dubious, highly conspicuous puddles.

McCree hardly cared. It could’ve been anything from a leaking omnic to a horny drifter. It was the twenty-first century; he’d seen it all, and then gotten the fuck over it.

It took McCree a moment to come back to his senses, already halfway through lighting himself a cigarette. He brought it to his lips, and then took to holding it between his teeth as he grew concerned with the limp man in front of him. He pulled Genji against his chest with one arm, stooping to swipe his glove with the other. He put his back to the fence, feeling Genji push his body closer as McCree wiped him off with glove and shoved it in the back pocket of his jeans.

“That was good. Very good.” Genji murmured, pushing himself up slightly to brace against McCree’s chest and look at him. He settled in even closer, then, and McCree could take a hint. With his still-gloved knuckle he tilted Genji’s face up and kissed him, brushing past all pretense to taste the roof of his mouth and behind Genji’s teeth. He tasted like metal, and even more like McCree’s cock. McCree couldn’t help but laugh again, delivering a light slap to Genji’s thigh as he moved to tuck himself back into his pants.  

“Good enough to come around and let me do it again?” McCree said, retrieving his gun and holstering it.

“Huh.” Genji laughed at him, stepping forward to lean all over McCree once more, like it was magnetic, but more like he couldn’t get enough of the man. McCree smirked at him now, and Genji watched the other’s bare, tattooed arm disappear past the curve of his waist before Genji was tugged forward.

McCree’s fingers traced a searing path down his spine, each vertebrae feeling like a singular, smoldering coal.

When Genji felt the supple strap snap back into place between his thighs, his face grew hot and Genji wanted to fuck McCree all over again.

“We shall see.” Genji finally responded, flippantly but calmly, and moving away from McCree and heading towards the shadowed corner-turn of an exit.

McCree didn’t quite know what to do with the breath in his lungs when Genji finally disappeared with as few words and extraneous noises as he’d arrived with.

Without thinking, McCree leaned back against the wall and smoked his damn cigarette whilst lamentedly stroking himself through his pants. His dick was already hard again, and knew _exactly_ who he wanted to slide it up inside of. He felt restless, and listless, and exhausted because he’d be leaving here with more pent-up frustration than he’d come with, when everything he’d done had been to relieve it.  

It was going to be a long, maddening night, as the enigma of how these things worked continued to elude him; the game Genji was playing would make him even crazier, yet.

Maybe _Genji_ wasn’t the only one who deserved a small percentage of his dwindling, lingering pity.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to interpret Genji's situation however you like - however, I personally refrain from tagging this as "trans" Genji or anything, as the current state of his anatomy is due to accidental circumstance, not any conscious decision or feelings he had himself. Like I said though, interpret it however you wish. My intent is always to be versatile and reader-friendly, and to satisfy my audience. So enjoy B)
> 
> COMMENTS keep me writing (kudos too)! thank you!


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